I know it was my fault. I left my treasured, black iPod nano in the treadmill water holder on Sunday, January 24th at 4:30pm. I was remiss, but you didn’t return it to the lost and found. So, as you enjoy my modern day technological marvel, here are some things you should know.

I have an eclectic taste in music.

If I had known you were going to be perusing my personal music that day, I would have at least created new playlists of obscure indie rock bands and gym appropriate music that would make me look hip, yet approachable. I own that stuff, but you caught me on a bad day. Instead, you will find a mix of sad Ryan Adams and Bruce Springsteen songs consoling a very recently broken heart, a playlist about London for a dear friend who is moving, old school music for my 90s-themed 30th birthday party, and and lots of music by Madonna. I hope you like Madonna.

You should know it wasn’t just a nano. It was a gift from close friends as I left home and moved to Italy. It was engraved with a personal message from them, “Ciao! We Love You!” Every time I looked at it I was reminded of their love and wishes for me. With my nano I was never lonely. We were in a symbiotic relationship for over three years. It was the conduit to the soundtrack of my late-twenties. It shared the electricity of falling in love, it was a trusty companion when I walked home alone from another bar, a consolation to more than one break-up, it pumped me up before eleven job interviews, countless exams, and sometimes it pushed me to run the extra mile.

Yes, I know it was just a nano, but it had absorbed my tears and my sweat. It had traveled with me to Italy, Turkey, Spain, France, China, the Philippines, and New Jersey. How could I have survived Friday night NJ Turnpike traffic without my nano? We all know the luxury bus wifi doesn’t really work.

The nano brought me the voice of Ira Glass, playlists created just for me, and playlists I compiled for my friend’s birthdays, weddings, and road trips. Luckily, you can’t steal music. I can save up for a new iPod and once again walk around Logan Circle while discreetly playing air guitar. You can’t steal the way I feel when drums perfectly pounce on my problems for four minutes, or how violin strings tilt my mood.

So, I hope you needed a portable music player. I hope my nano is not some mistress to your bigger, fancier iPhone. I hope you love it the way I did. Respect its size and its dependability. Unlike disappointing boyfriends and bosses, it never failed or stuttered once in my hands.

I hope it helps you get through a difficult period or celebrate a new adventure. I hope you didn’t prostitute it out to the highest bidder. It was a lady. But, most of all, I hope you have friends that would give you such a gift. The gift of music with an engraved reminder that you are loved.

Thankfully, my friends’ love is portable and it doesn’t need a protective case.